Chapter 2

Seraphina's POV

I didn't flinch when his fingers brushed my jaw, but it took everything in me to stay still. To not let him see the way my skin crawled under his touch.

Raphael Deluca, I'd be stupid if I claimed I didn't know that name.

Every whisper of his empire, every bloody rumor attached to it-it all came crashing into my mind like a violent wave. My father's sworn enemy. The man who ruled the underworld with an iron grip, and now, the man who had me trapped in his grasp.

My heart pounded, but I forced my expression to remain blank. "If you think you can use me against my father, you're wasting your time."

His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. More like a predator baring its teeth. "Oh, I disagree. See, Dante Moreau may have let you go, however, you are his flesh and blood. He won't let you rot in my hands, no matter how far you've tried to run."

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting. He was not wrong. My father would come for me and that's what I feared: he would be walking into Rafaels's trap.

His gaze flicked down, taking in the way my fists clenched at my sides. "Thinking of running, little ’Phina?"

I lifted my chin. "If I was, I wouldn't just think about it, you know."

His dark chuckle sent a shiver down my spine.

"Bold." He stepped back, motioning lazily to the guards by the door.

"Let's see how far that boldness gets you."

The moment he turned, I moved.

Adrenaline flooded my veins as I launched forward, using every bit of my speed to dart past the guards. One reached for me, but I twisted away, sending a chair crashing into his legs.

I needed a way out. Survival had never been so prioritised by me as in this moment. I sprinted blindly through the grand estate, my bare feet slamming against polished floors. The house was a maze of endless corridors and heavy doors, but there-a glimpse of moonlight through a window at the end of the hall.

I threw myself at it, fumbling with the latch however, the door was locked. In that moment, I knew I was doomed. If this DeLuca beast had no intentions of killing me before, there's a high chance he'd do it now. A shadow loomed behind me and just as I turned, a pair of strong arms seized me from behind. I fought-clawed, kicked, twisted-but it was like trying to move a mountain.

"Enough."

One word: low and dangerous. That's two words but that's the only way to describe the effect of his voice.

I barely had time to register Raphael before he grabbed me by the waist and hauled me forward. My fist shot out on instinct, connecting with his ribs. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he let out a low, unimpressed sigh. Then his grip shifted. In the next breath, I was slammed against the wall.

Pain exploded in my skull, the force rattling through me. My vision blurred, darkness creeping at the edges.

The last thing I saw before the world went black was Raphael watching me, his gaze was unreadable: cold, detached, like he truly did not care whether I lived or died.

___—___

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the silence.

It wasn’t comforting. It wasn’t peaceful. It was heavy, suffocating, pressing down on me like a weighted blanket I couldn’t shake off.

The second thing I noticed was that I was alone.

My eyes open to an unfamiliar ceiling—high, vaulted, with intricate carvings of gold along its edges. The bed beneath me was soft, far too luxurious for a captive, but that did nothing to calm the cold dread settling in my bones. My body ached, my wrists sore from the restraints that had bound me before.

The room was beautiful, but it was a prison.

I pushed myself up, my pulse hammering as I scanned my surroundings. Dark marble floors gleamed under dim lighting, the walls adorned with oil paintings that probably cost more than my entire existence. Floor-to-ceiling windows were covered with thick drapes, trapping me inside. And the door—locked. Of course, it was.

Where am I? I already knew the answer.

Raphael DeLuca’s estate.

The memories came flooding back—the recital, the kidnapping, the man who had stared at me like I was nothing more than a tool for his destruction. A pawn in his twisted game of revenge. A whole lot of things went down yesterday

I had to get out.

Throwing off the heavy blanket, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, ignoring the way they trembled as I stood. My bare feet made no sound against the cool marble as I padded towards the door. I twisted the handle.

Nothing.

I cursed under my breath, stepping back. There had to be a way out. A hidden exit, a window I could break—something. I refused to be a prisoner.

Before I could search further, the door clicked.

I tensed as it swung open, and he walked in.

Raphael DeLuca.

Even in a simple black dress shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, and dark slacks, he carried himself with a lethal grace that sent a warning through my veins. His presence filled the room, demanding, consuming. A man who was used to power. To control.

His eyes swept over me, assessing, unreadable. Then, with absolute indifference, he turned away, moving towards a bar in the corner of the room. Like I wasn’t even worth looking at.

"You’re awake," he muttered, pouring himself a drink. Not a greeting. Just an observation.

"Why am I here again?" My voice was hoarse, my throat raw from lack of water.

He took a slow sip before finally meeting my gaze. "You already know."

My fingers curled into fists. "I have nothing to do with whatever my father did to you."

A dark chuckle left his lips as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "And yet, here you are."

My stomach twisted. He didn’t care.

Not about my innocence. Not about the fact that I had been running from my father’s world for years. To him, I was a Moreau, and that was enough.

"I don’t know what you think you’ll achieve by keeping me here," I pushed, my voice sharper now. "Dante Moreau isn’t the type to negotiate. You know that."

Raphael smirked, leaning back against the bar. "Oh, I know. But I’m not expecting negotiations."

A chill ran down my spine. "Then what do you want?"

He tilted his head, considering me. As if I were an insect beneath his shoe.

"I want him to suffer," he said simply. "And you? You are the perfect way to do that."

I shook my head, my chest rising and falling rapidly. "He doesn’t care about me."

I tried so hard to make it sound like that. Rafael already knew my history, judging from the way he talked last night.

"Are you sure about that?" His smirk widened. "Because he’s already made a move."

I froze.

No, he couldn’t mean—

"Dante reached out," Raphael continued, watching me with cruel amusement. "Demanded your return. Quite the dramatic plea, really."

My heart lurched. That wasn’t possible. My father had made me a promise—to never drag me back into his world. He had let me go. He had sworn it.

And yet, here I was.

I took a slow, shaky breath. "If he wants me back, then let me go."

Raphael’s expression darkened, all amusement vanishing in an instant. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming.

"You don’t dictate the rules here, Moreau," he murmured. "I do."

He reached out, and before I could recoil, his fingers traced a slow, deliberate line along my jaw. His touch was light—barely there—but it sent ice through my veins.

I refused to let him see my fear.

"You can fight all you want," he said with his voice low, lazy, effortless, like he wasn’tmaking an effort to talk to me. "But every time you defy me, someone else will bleed for it."

I stilled. "What are you talking about?"

He exhaled, almost bored, before stepping back and reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a phone, tapped the screen, and then turned it towards me.

The breath in my lungs vanished.

On the screen was a live video feed. My students.

The children I taught, their small, eager faces now filled with confusion as unfamiliar men loomed over them in their classroom.

My blood ran cold.

"If you behave," Raphael said casually, tucking the phone away, "they stay safe. If not…" He shrugged. "Well, you’re a smart girl, aren’t you?"

My knees nearly gave out.

My students. The children who looked up to me. The innocent souls who had nothing to do with this.

"You bastard," I whispered, my voice trembling with rage.

He smiled. Smug. Unbothered.

"Now you’re catching on, Moreau."

Tears burned the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. He wanted my fear. My submission.

I couldn’t give him that.

But as I stood there, my entire world crashing down around me, I realized something horrifying.

Raphael DeLuca wasn’t just a ruthless man. He was a monster, and I was completely at his mercy.

“Now, what shall we do with you, daddy's favourite girl?”

How can a threat sound so inviting? His lips twitched into a smirk as he swiped the hair blocking my view away with his left hand.

“How dare you threaten me with children? They are children, you heartless bastard, you evil mafia bastard!” I screeched at the top of my voice at him. How dare he?

“Oh, love, don't raise your voice at me. I'm not all that kind. Besides, we can't let you suffer ’cause daddy will burn the world for you, ain't that right?” His voice drawled slowly yet, steadily, like he wanted my body to betray me, like he wanted me to betray myself.

What am I going to do?